Sunrise
by Actora
Summary: Post S02E05. Caroline's mother is regaining her memories back. Damon is the blonde's last resort. AU, Damon-centric. one-short...maybe. No pairing.


**Taken place after S02E05, after watching that episode, I just felt like writing something Damon related... ^_^ **  
Written mostly in Damon's POV. AU for most parts.

Disclaimer: don't own, don't sue. thank you & enjoy.

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**Sunrise**

Sunrise was always one of his favourite moments of the day. As winter approached, it was something nice to look forward to everyday.

Damon had his usual black leather jacket swung over his shoulder as he crossed the parking lot to the Sherif's station. Before, the white marble walls held a place of...distraction, it was a nice change of environment from his dark wooden boarding house. He liked to go there and to flirt, mingle, and update himself on the current vamp scam. But now, watching uniform clad figures pouring into the building during office hour was setting his teeth on edge. Several weeks back, he and Stephen's true identity were exposed – thanks to a certain lycan rival. They were locked down in a underground cellar surrounded by those uniformed bodies and wooden round guns. Blood was spilling out them in rivers while syringe filled with vervain were spilling in. Thank God Elena showed at the right time, distracted the Sherif long enough to have Caroline bit the other two deputies' heads off. The left-over problem was a over-shocked Sherif.

Luckily, a solution was in order, and several days ago, Caroline lived up to her promise and delivered it. The compulsion made Liz believe she was sick with the flu. All was right in the world...until the brainwashing short-lived a record-breaking period of two days before questions started to surface from Liz. It was then the Blonde confessed that she practically cried out a river during her compulsion. Damon then assumed she got side tracked with all her girlie emotional stuffs, and the compulsion turned more into a confession instead. Being an experienced cop, Liz knew exactly where to interrogate for clues, and, inconveniently, Caroline was just the most unconvincing liar.

Just a few days prior, the blonde came seeking out her last resort. As he entered the elevator, Damon recalled the very "important" solo dialogue retold by a over-reacting blonde of her brainwashed mother.

"So, so, she was like 'Where are my flu meds?' and I told her she didn't get any, and then she said 'but I did go see the doctor, right?' and made it sound more like a statement. AND, ohmygod, somehow she was at the family clinic the other day getting meds for a sick colleague, and she bumped into Dr. Rosel...you know, our family doctor...and, and, she came home and told me she suspects either she or Rosel has amnesia. And she said she remembered me telling her I loved her...but I did that when she was compelled, how could she know..." annnnnd, there she goes again, giving Damon a Frobe's History 101 by taking him down her life's-most-loveable-moments-with-mom memory lane.

Apparently, her family relationship dilemma was so apocalyptically catastrophic that she had to break down the front door at 5 in the morning to tell it. Damon, on the other hand, was trying every possible way to show his immense displeasure for being knocked out of bed so early to play Dr. Phil. Yet, Caroline didn't even notice the murderous vibe as she went on to add in sentimental and emotional ingredients to her already over-the-top mushy story. Finally, Damon gave up and ignored her like thin air. Surprisingly, Caroline was quick to realize the absent attention, and stopped pacing hysterically across the room. A frown settled in disbelief on her makeup-less face as she watched the other walking briskly pass her to one of his many liquor cabinets.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Am I boring you with my global crisis?" She crossed her arms.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Damon mockingly imitated, "are you implying that I am balding, because you seem to have mistaken me for someone else."

Not a fan of Dr. Phil, she returned his glare with a blank stare. "Are you going to help or not?" She asked, frustrated that Damon found his scotch deserved much more attention as he was gulping it down by the gallons. "If she remembers, it's your ass on the line too, you know. More of yours than mine."

By her third attempt at breaking Damon's impassive silence she was at the verge of crawling his eyes out, "you know, if Elena didn't suggest this when I went to her for help, I wouldn't have come."

"Feel free to get the hell out." Damon gestured towards the door, "truth is, I don't owe you anything, and _you_ are the one who screwed up. Want me to play janitor and mop after you? The least you could do is beg for it." He made his demand sound dauntingly casual.

"Screw you." She replied in a calm, emotionless tone, but her impassive posture was slipping.

"I think it was the other way around." He chuckled humourlessly, "Hm, good times." Raising his glass to the other, a sinister smirk broke out on his beautiful face dripping with venomous mockery.

Caroline managed a cold smile of her own, "And _this_ is exactly why she chose Stephen, he will never do the things you did to me. Good choice."

She didn't even see the scotch glass slip through his loosened grip because Damon was already sending her plunging down the stairwell. Before gravity even managed to pull her to the bottom of the staircase, fingers of cold steel gripped tightly on to her neck like death. With only a flick of one hand, he effortlessly sent her flying towards the main entrance. Caroline saw stars dancing as her skull cracked against the heavy oak door like an egg shell. Blood spilled from the back of her head like a red fountain, splattering decorative pattern over the other's stoic face, which was just inches away from hers. Somewhere in the background, came a shattering sound of broken glass. Even with her emotions blocked away, she felt a chilling numbness seeping through her broken bones, frozen her in place. The older vampire glared menacingly at her through his bangs, blue eyes dark like thunder clouds. She watched him opening his mouth couple of times as if to say something, but all that came out was "make sure mommy-dearest is vervain-free." Before she even got the chance to say thank you, her hand bag was tossed roughly at her, and the heavy oak door slammed in her face, missing breaking her nose by a mere inch.

He didn't want to slam the door, but he didn't want her to see his tears even more.

000

Coming back to the present, he spotted Sherif Liz hovering over an ancient Windows 98 monitor, a crease etched on her forehead. Damon hid himself in a blind spot by the corner and watched the Sherif fussing over a case file with her colleague.

As she retreated to her office after leaving behind a few words of instructions, he followed like a shadow – swift and silent. Passing the desk with the unlawfully old monitor, he playfully winked at the officer occupying the space, while she tried not to giggle, he took a quick peek at the monitor display. Unlike humans, vampires – healthy, on-the-right-diet vampires – have quick reflex skills even in the brain. One millionth of a second was enough for him to read over everything on that case file which Liz spent a good 20 minutes pouring over earlier. To his satisfaction, nothing vamp related to alert his radar, just a 4 months cold hit-and-run case on some fancy car doing solo drag race like it owned the town...and splattered some guy's brain all over the road.

Passing the brewing coffee machine, a good looking receptionist battered her fake lashes and offered him a steaming mug. He politely declined. Being here more than a couple of times, he learned the station has a special vervain mixed water system. The girl pouted at the rejection, but he rounded the corner before she even got a whiney word out.

The Sherif's office looked the same with its white walls, tall white curtained windows, hardwood furniture, and dark cherry wood floor. The space, however, seemed a bit downsized. After a second of observation, Damon realized the renovation consisted solely of piled up paper stacks littered around the room. Sherif Elizabeth lifted her head from the wall of paper work scattered on her desk and greeted him with her usual warm smile.

"Whoa, I would say welcome back, but..." He eyed her over crowded desk.

"Thanks, felt like I was gone forever." She replied with a laugh that didn't really reach the eyes, and gestured towards an empty chair in front of her desk which he gladly approached and sat down.

"How did you end up with more paper work?" He faked a look of surprise while sinking into the comfy leather. "I thought you were done since you poured over them like a mad woman when you were sick with the flu."

"Really?" Her pen stopped swirling her signature as she looked up, "I don't really –"

"Remember?" He effortlessly summoned a look of doubt, and leaned forward to look directly into her eyes,"You were working on that hit-and-run case during your sick leave. You didn't even have the time to see your family physician. Caroline made you superb chicken soup, and told you that she loves you, and – " He paused, contemplating before continuing, "today you are going to go home on time, cook Caroline dinner instead of ordering take outs, and make her your first priority from now on."

He had her repeat it three times before he was absolutely positive that this time compulsion would stay permanent. Excusing himself from the office, he took an awfully crowded elevator ride down to the first floor where his elevator companions practically raced themselves to the cafe for the new expresso machine. Apparently, an early coffee break was in session. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the laughter in the air while the machine purred in the background. Even as he tried to make himself invisible, some saw his dazzling blue eyes and raised their classy little expresso cups for a hello. He smiled back, and remembered a time when the smiles came more naturally and sincere. Sometimes when you make friends, it's easy to forget how fast they will turn on you without a second thought. The bullet wounds might have long disappeared, but the memory of them still stung. Sometimes, he even pondered if that was the sole reason he abandoned his humanity. Why be human when the rest of the world won't see nor accept him as one? The way he saw it, he did the world a favour by living up to their stereotype.

Once outside, he stopped for a moment to admire the view of the sun shining over Mystic Falls, glazing the buildings with a layer of gold. They said that everything change over time. In Damon's experience, it was usually for worse. But, no matter how bad things got, there was always one constant in his life – sunrise.

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**a/n: **I haven't written anything fanfic based for a really long while, just wanted to see if i could still write. Please let me know what you think. thanks! =)


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